Fate Can Be Changed
by Leaf-The-Muddy-Stormbringer
Summary: ONESHOT. A few flashbacks in Mordred's life as told by an OC. R&R, please.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin!**

**This kind of crawled out of some dark corner of my brain, so enjoy! Apologies if Mordred is OOC. The narrator is a druid woman who is seven years Mordred's senior.**

* * *

I had been there since the moment he was born. A small, premature baby with a dark shock of hair and blue eyes that seemed to be peering into your soul, exploring every nook and cranny of it. He was meant for it, I knew, and I dreaded the day his destiny would be fulfilled. Someone so beautiful and uncut, so innocent, would be put through so much pain and suffering, blinded by anger, pushed on by fear, and meeting his end alone and so far in the darkness. His mother whispered his name slowly, enjoying the feel of it. _Mordred._ _Mordred. _Brave counselor, I believe it meant.

* * *

I recall the day he was apprenticed to Cerdan. He was nervous, shifting from one foot to the other and wringing his hands behind his back, covered by his cloak. Mordred was looking around at the emotionless faces, trying to find someone to help him. When he met eyes with me, I flashed him a reassuring smile, and mouthed, _go on_. He seemed to relax after that, building up his confidence. When the ceremony was over, he walked up to me while Cerdan spoke with my mentor, Lilia.

"_May I ask your name?"_

"_My name is Sa'rai. May I ask yours?"_

"_It's Mordred."_

I nodded,_ "I know. I was at your birth." _I smiled slightly._ "You don't seem to have changed a bit."_

Before he could reply, Cerdan called him over and led him to their sleeping area. Lilia walked up behind me. _"Why display such an interest in him?" _She was a seeress, like me.

"_I don't know. I don't want him to end up how he will."_

"_Fate can be changed, Sa'rai. You never really know what your real destiny is until you reach the end."_

* * *

"_Sa'rai!" _A small hand was shaking my shoulder, pulling me out of sleep. Can't one take a nap in the sanctuary of one's own tent? I fixed myself into a sitting position and looked up at the little boy.

I fixed Mordred with the it-had-better-be-pretty-damn-important look. _"What's happened?"_

He muttered something incoherent, and in seconds his hand held a small, contained flame. Daring me to comment, he smirked.

"_Don't get too full of yourself, but that is impressive for one so early in his apprenticeship."_ I said. Mordred grinned, and the fire flared up a little as he lost control, panicking and losing levitation. He let out a yelp as the fire made contact with his palm, dropping to his knees next to me. He had closed his hand around it to extinguish the flame.

"_Come here, let me see it."_ I whispered gently.

He clutched his burnt hand close to his chest and shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. Whether it was pain or shame, I didn't know.

I tried again. _"It's okay, I won't tell Cerdan. Trust me Mordred; I can help."_

Mordred reluctantly held out his hand, palm up. It was red and blistering, and judging by his hiss, it hurt like nothing he'd felt before. I brought a bucket of water in from the river and guided his hand into it. He let out a small sigh of relief. _"Thank you, Sa'rai..." _ After about half an hour, the pain had stopped. He held it out once more and I applied a rather funny-smelling ointment to it before carefully wrapping it up in a cloth.

"_So just remember, keep control over the fire and maintain a calm mind, okay?"_ He nodded sleepily. It was late in the summer, and the sun was just going down. _"I'll go tell Cerdan you're with me tonight," _I said, tucking him into my makeshift bed.

* * *

"_Oh thank goodness." _I sighed. Iseldir brought him back. He brought him back alive. Mordred made his way over and sadly stared at me for a minute before placing a finger on my forehead, telepathically transferring his experiences over to me. When he was done, I knew it was stirring in him. His anger was moving from the corner of his mind it had dwelled in all these years. I hugged him and bid him goodnight, entering my tent and dropping onto the bed, sighing and mentally preparing. If I'm going to try to save him, then I will. I'll have to be his guardian now. Eighteen years of existence had readied me for this task. If he kills me, so be it. If he stops himself before it's started, then so be it. If he doesn't; so be it.

* * *

**THERE. What'ja think? I'm not very good at this, so please don't flame me. Flames only hurt this authoress. R&R! Pleeeeease! I don't mean to sound desperate, but nobody ever reviews except my best friend, so pwetty pwease? *puppy eyes* Thank you so much to the people who've read this!  
**


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